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| Duncan and Santanoni. |
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| Do we have to go?!? |
Showing posts with label Allen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Allen. Show all posts
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Allen for the Four-Season Grid. 2014-12-18
Today was an auspicious day for me because it brought to a close my year-long obsession to complete the Four-Season Grid (46 ADK peaks x 4 seasons). Accompanied by Tom (Randomscooter), I tagged Allen's summit and completed the final peak of my Fall round and the Four-Season Grid. Experiencing the High Peaks in all seasons has made me a more seasoned hiker (pun intended) and given me a deeper appreciation for the High Peaks and the determined people (a.k.a. "Gridiots") who have completed the Grid (12-month and 52-week versions). The more time you spend hiking the High Peaks, the more you learn about them and, more importantly, about yourself.
After finishing a Single-Season Winter 46er round this year, I wondered how many peaks remained to complete Spring, Summer, and Fall rounds before year's end. I checked my hiking log and the remaining quantities seemed feasible even when added to my other objectives (completing the NH48 and NE67):.
It didn't take long for me to regret my decision to avoid hiking in soggy October. "Backloading" all my Fall peaks into wintry November and December meant I would have even fewer opportunities to cherry-pick the best days for weather. In addition, I would experience winter-like conditions but without the advantages of what true winter can offer such as smooth, groomed trails compacted by the snowshoes of many aspiring Winter 46ers.
I experienced first-hand that, in late Fall and early Spring, the High Peaks see far less hiker traffic, especially to distant and trail-less peaks. As a result, one is more likely to encounter challenging trail conditions such as several inches of loose untrammeled snow concealing the many hazards of a typical Adirondack trail. I now know that these 'shoulder seasons' present their own set of hurdles to test your mettle. They can produce conditions that are more challenging than found in the dead of winter when popular trails are often 'paved in compacted snow'. There is no question that a bitterly cold winter's day, with miles of breaking trail though deep untracked snow, still tops my list of 'humbling conditions'. However, I've learned that winter doesn't hold a monopoly on teaching one humility.
I'd like to extend my thanks to Neil and Tom who had hiked to Allen on Tuesday to explore the route, break trail, and increase my odds of success on Thursday. Thank you gentlemen! On Thursday, Tom and I were able to complete the hike in ten hours without undue difficulty.
Tom and I left the trail-head at 6:20 AM by head-lamp. The morning was cool (-1 C, 30 F) and there was a very light snow-shower. Wearing snowshoes, we made good progress to the Opalescent river crossing which was as frozen as it had been reported two days earlier. Downstream, at the confluence of the Opalescent and Skylight Brook, the river was open. Upstream, the Opalescent was mostly but not completely frozen over. I had checked the USGS water-level for the Hudson river (the closest monitoring station) and learned that water-levels were in steady decline and approaching a seasonal low. The weather forecast predicted temperatures slightly below freezing but not anything (like heavy rain) that might cause the river ice to break-up; I felt reassured the ice would remain intact throughout the day.
The recent snowfall and subsequent days of mild thawing had caused spruce trees to sag under their burden of snow. As a result, sections of the trail beyond the crossing were narrower than usual. Upon arriving at the herd-path junction, I noticed the unique, hand-carved "Allen" sign was gone. It has been replaced by a stock trail sign with "ALLEN" hand-written in marker. The tree bearing the old sign is also gone and I assume it fell over. The fate of the rustic sign is unknown to me.
The herd-path was mostly hard-packed snow except for a few sections where, like at Lake Sally, running and standing water created soggy discontinuities. Skylight Brook was not frozen over but two stepping stones helped us cross without getting our boots wet. I consider Skylight Brook to be the end of the "approach" portion and the beginning of the "ascent" section. The stretch to Allen Brook passed uneventfully and we paused yet again to prepare ourselves for the steepest ascent of the day.
The real work was about to begin and now we would truly benefit from the trail-breaking done by Tom and Neil two days earlier. Tom reported it had taken them 100 minutes to ascend to Allen on Tuesday and today we would cover the same distance a full half-hour faster. The most challenging portion was the open slide where it had received 4-6 inches of fresh powder snow. It gave way easily and one had to frequently step-kick into the slope to gain purchase. It was also breezier and made me very aware that I was wearing only a baselayer and T-shirt. I picked up my pace to get back into the relative calm, and warmth, of the sheltering woods but not before snapping a few photos of Tom ascending the slide.
The route's steepness continues well past the slide and the effort of the ascent quickly had me warm again. The moment the grade decreased I smiled because I knew I was now close to the end of the ascent and the Four-Season Grid. After 5.5 hours of effort, Tom and I stood on Allen's summit. Tom congratulated me and I grinned from ear to ear. There were moments in the last few weeks where I doubted I'd be able to complete the Fall round this year but it all fell into place.
We took a few moments for a snack and then bundled up for the steep and snowy descent. I took advantage of the fresh powder and glissaded wherever possible. We arrived at the base of Allen Brook 35 minutes later and, overheated by the descent, paused to peel off a few layers. The return to and crossing of Skylight Brook was uneventful. We chugged up from Skylight Book to the height of land and then settled in for the long descent to the Opalescent.
The river crossing remained intact and we traversed without making any spooky creaks, cracks, or watery holes. A half-hour from the crossing, we came across a set of tracks and drag marks that told the story of beavers who had crossed the road, cut down several saplings, and dragged them back to the river.
The phrase "Trudging the road of happy destiny" played over and over in my mind during the road-walk to Lake Sally. I can't recall where I first heard it but learned it originated from Alcoholics Anonymous. I'm not sure how the AA interprets it but it seemed apropos to describe the road-walk. Beyond Lake Sally, the trudging continued on yet another road but one that now seemed like "the longish road of mostly happy destiny". Nevertheless, our pace was steady and we were pleased to discover we would exit before dark.
As predicted, we crossed the Hudson bridge under the failing light of dusk and signed out at 4:26 PM. In the parking lot, we met a group of hikers who had just returned from Adams. They were the only other hikers we saw all day. After cleaning up, we settled in for the drive back to Tom's home.
One chapter has ended and it's time to move on to the next. I have a three peaks remaining to complete my sixth 46er round and two peaks, in the Catskills, to complete the NE115. Beyond that, the Grid (12-month version) makes for a nice long-term distraction.
After finishing a Single-Season Winter 46er round this year, I wondered how many peaks remained to complete Spring, Summer, and Fall rounds before year's end. I checked my hiking log and the remaining quantities seemed feasible even when added to my other objectives (completing the NH48 and NE67):.
- 16 for Spring.
- 6 for Summer.
- 18 for Fall.
It didn't take long for me to regret my decision to avoid hiking in soggy October. "Backloading" all my Fall peaks into wintry November and December meant I would have even fewer opportunities to cherry-pick the best days for weather. In addition, I would experience winter-like conditions but without the advantages of what true winter can offer such as smooth, groomed trails compacted by the snowshoes of many aspiring Winter 46ers.
I experienced first-hand that, in late Fall and early Spring, the High Peaks see far less hiker traffic, especially to distant and trail-less peaks. As a result, one is more likely to encounter challenging trail conditions such as several inches of loose untrammeled snow concealing the many hazards of a typical Adirondack trail. I now know that these 'shoulder seasons' present their own set of hurdles to test your mettle. They can produce conditions that are more challenging than found in the dead of winter when popular trails are often 'paved in compacted snow'. There is no question that a bitterly cold winter's day, with miles of breaking trail though deep untracked snow, still tops my list of 'humbling conditions'. However, I've learned that winter doesn't hold a monopoly on teaching one humility.
I'd like to extend my thanks to Neil and Tom who had hiked to Allen on Tuesday to explore the route, break trail, and increase my odds of success on Thursday. Thank you gentlemen! On Thursday, Tom and I were able to complete the hike in ten hours without undue difficulty.
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| Crossing the Hudson by head-lamp. |
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| Tom tests the Opalescent's frozen surface. |
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| This tree and sign no longer exist. |
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| The new normal. |
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| Skylight Brook. Two small stepping stones make all the difference. |
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| Several inches of fresh snow on Allen's slide. |
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| Tom and I celebrate another great day in the High Peaks. |
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| Appreciating whatever views we can get on a cloudy day. |
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| Beavers out for a snack. |
As predicted, we crossed the Hudson bridge under the failing light of dusk and signed out at 4:26 PM. In the parking lot, we met a group of hikers who had just returned from Adams. They were the only other hikers we saw all day. After cleaning up, we settled in for the drive back to Tom's home.
One chapter has ended and it's time to move on to the next. I have a three peaks remaining to complete my sixth 46er round and two peaks, in the Catskills, to complete the NE115. Beyond that, the Grid (12-month version) makes for a nice long-term distraction.
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| Newly minted Four-Season Gridiot. :-) |
Photos
See all photos.Hike Stats
- Distance: 18 miles.
- Ascent: 3850 feet.
- Time: 10h 5m.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Allen 2014-06-17
The recent rains had me concerned about exceedingly wet and muddy trails plus a challenging crossing of the Opalescent. In fact, the trails were no worse than normal (for this route) and the Opalescent river-crossing was a non-event.
It was my first time using the rerouted trail around Lake Jimmy and it's a pretty route through firs, cedars, and the lake's outlet. Maybe one or two more planks are needed to span new sections of mud but overall it's a solid path compared to the old "floating bridge".
The normally wet section along Lake Sally had standing water. A few other areas, notably well past the sand pit, featured broad mud-wallows. Most of them can be crossed on exposed rock and timber.
The herd-path along Allen brook was wet and muddy (no surprise). There was plenty of water coursing down the slope as well as the slide section.
Neil and I wore trail-runners and, combined with careful foot-placement, they proved their "grip" on the slippery rocks along Allen brook. I did my best to avoid the exceedingly slick "red slime".
I found a pair of soaking-wet, Smartwool long underwear sprawled on Allen's slide. If anyone wishes to claim them they are resting precisely where I found them, undisturbed.
Deer flies pestered me from Lake Jimmy to Allen brook and back. A wide-brimmed hat kept seemed effective at discouraging them from landing on my face, ears, and neck but little to keep them from being a constant buzzing nuisance.
West of Mount Adam's observer cabin, I spotted a hare on the trail, standing on its hind legs and calmly munching grass. Naturally, it ducked into the underbrush the moment my hand touched my camera case.
A grouse dashed noisily across the trail, just a few feet ahead of us, and proceeded to run through the woods alongside the trail fluttering its wings. I don't know if it was attempting to lure us away from its nest but I do know it elevated my heart-rate.
Allen was my last peak to complete a Spring round of the ADK 46. We completed the hike in just under 9 hours.
It was my first time using the rerouted trail around Lake Jimmy and it's a pretty route through firs, cedars, and the lake's outlet. Maybe one or two more planks are needed to span new sections of mud but overall it's a solid path compared to the old "floating bridge".
The normally wet section along Lake Sally had standing water. A few other areas, notably well past the sand pit, featured broad mud-wallows. Most of them can be crossed on exposed rock and timber.
The herd-path along Allen brook was wet and muddy (no surprise). There was plenty of water coursing down the slope as well as the slide section.
Neil and I wore trail-runners and, combined with careful foot-placement, they proved their "grip" on the slippery rocks along Allen brook. I did my best to avoid the exceedingly slick "red slime".
I found a pair of soaking-wet, Smartwool long underwear sprawled on Allen's slide. If anyone wishes to claim them they are resting precisely where I found them, undisturbed.
Deer flies pestered me from Lake Jimmy to Allen brook and back. A wide-brimmed hat kept seemed effective at discouraging them from landing on my face, ears, and neck but little to keep them from being a constant buzzing nuisance.
West of Mount Adam's observer cabin, I spotted a hare on the trail, standing on its hind legs and calmly munching grass. Naturally, it ducked into the underbrush the moment my hand touched my camera case.
A grouse dashed noisily across the trail, just a few feet ahead of us, and proceeded to run through the woods alongside the trail fluttering its wings. I don't know if it was attempting to lure us away from its nest but I do know it elevated my heart-rate.
Allen was my last peak to complete a Spring round of the ADK 46. We completed the hike in just under 9 hours.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Allen. 2014-02-16
Poor Doru. He had plans for three days of hiking but, due to a snowstorm and partners altering their itinerary, the first two days fell through. On Saturday evening, I let him know that, should Sunday's hiking partners opt out, he was welcome to join Brian (Pathgrinder) and me.
Waking at 3:30 AM, I checked my email messages and Doru indicated Sunday's group canceled so he would be joining us. I phoned Brian (who was already en route) and let him know I found another trail-breaker. Doru and I left Montreal at 4:15 AM and arrived at Upper Works three hours later.
We left the Allen trail-head at 7:30 PM. Apparently, Winter Mama's group had broken the trail the previous day. In addition, a group of three from Rochester departed at 7:00 AM. The trail was firm but pock-marked by the bare-booting Rochesterians. We left our microspikes behind and used snowshoes all day long.
Brian kindly lent me his spare set of Tubbs Flex Alps snowshoes. I wanted to compare them to my MSR Evo Ascent snowshoes. In brief, their bindings are simpler and faster to operate and are very comfortable. The oversized crampon teeth bit securely into icy slopes. The serrated rails provided very aggressive traction, almost too much because I found it difficult to glissade with them. The longer tails (2") made the shoes a bit more clumsy to handle when crossing over waist-high obstacles. I think if the tails were shorter, and omitted their metal teeth, they would handle more like MSR's Evo Ascent.
The temperature was 5 °F (-15 °C) and the sky was cloudless. Trails and herd-paths were easy to follow and had received a dusting of snow overnight. The Opalescent river featured remarkable banks of "aggregated ice-blocks" that looked very similar to terrazzo flooring.
We made excellent progress and overtook the Rochesterians shortly before Skylight Brook. Upon arriving at Allen brook, we knew the "approach" was finally over and now the real work would begin. The final ascent, about 1700 feet over a distance of just under one mile, was punctuated by, according to Doru's count, twenty-three fallen trees. Many of the obstacles provided extra exercise because they were too high to step over and required crawling under them.
Despite the previous day's passage by Winter Mama's group, the slide was completely smoothed over by drifting snow. The views from the slide, of the Santanoni and Seward ranges, far in the distance, were superb.
I tagged Allen's summit at 12:00 PM and, before long, was joined by a member of the Rochester group and then, in quick succession, Brian, Doru, and the remaining Rochesterians. A few steps north of the summit-sign we were treated to a spectacular view of the central High Peaks. One could identify peaks from Redfield in the west to Macomb in the east.
Almost a half-hour passed before aching toes signaled it was time to get underway. Doru anticipated that Brian and I might get ahead of him so he gave me his car-key. Descending peaks in winter is my favorite activity because, given the right snow conditions, you can glissade and make excellent progress. It sure beats the heck out of treading cautiously over slippery rocks coated with Allen's infamous "red slime".
One icy bulge got the best of me. In a flash I went from a seated position to a heap of tangled limbs and poles. My glasses lay in the snow a few feet away and I felt like someone had punched me in the nose. It took me a moment or two to understand that one of my hiking poles had struck me across the bridge of my nose. Brian asked if I was OK and I replied "Yeah, just stunned." After the pain finished radiating from my nose to my ears, I felt fine. My nose was swollen and tender but not broken.
Descending the slide was the best part of the hike. I chose to glissade through the deep, unbroken snow. Brian opted to butt-slide the compacted chute and I'll let the photos describe the fun he had. The fallen trees seemed easier to tackle on the descent using a "crab-walking" approach.
I paused at Skylight Brook and waited for Brian to catch up. We pushed on and became separated over the course of the next 1.5 miles. I arrived at the sand-pit at 2:05 PM and stopped to tend to a nagging hotspot on my foot. A blister-bandage and fresh socks made it right. Within the next ten minutes I was joined by Brian and Doru. After re-crossing the Opalescent, we settled in for a long walk with Doru in the lead.
At 3:55 PM, just shy of 8.5 hours from our departure, I signed out at the trail-head. Within the next ten minutes, I was joined by Doru and Brian. After stowing our gear and changing into fresh clothes we swapped ideas for future hikes. Brian and Doru are aspiring Winter 46ers and close to completing their first round. With tentative plans made for the following weekend, we bid one another good-bye and settled in for the commute home.
Waking at 3:30 AM, I checked my email messages and Doru indicated Sunday's group canceled so he would be joining us. I phoned Brian (who was already en route) and let him know I found another trail-breaker. Doru and I left Montreal at 4:15 AM and arrived at Upper Works three hours later.
We left the Allen trail-head at 7:30 PM. Apparently, Winter Mama's group had broken the trail the previous day. In addition, a group of three from Rochester departed at 7:00 AM. The trail was firm but pock-marked by the bare-booting Rochesterians. We left our microspikes behind and used snowshoes all day long.
Brian kindly lent me his spare set of Tubbs Flex Alps snowshoes. I wanted to compare them to my MSR Evo Ascent snowshoes. In brief, their bindings are simpler and faster to operate and are very comfortable. The oversized crampon teeth bit securely into icy slopes. The serrated rails provided very aggressive traction, almost too much because I found it difficult to glissade with them. The longer tails (2") made the shoes a bit more clumsy to handle when crossing over waist-high obstacles. I think if the tails were shorter, and omitted their metal teeth, they would handle more like MSR's Evo Ascent.
The temperature was 5 °F (-15 °C) and the sky was cloudless. Trails and herd-paths were easy to follow and had received a dusting of snow overnight. The Opalescent river featured remarkable banks of "aggregated ice-blocks" that looked very similar to terrazzo flooring.
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| "Ice-terrazo" along the Opalescent. |
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| Skylight Brook. |
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| One of 23 fallen trees. |
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| Approaching the slide. |
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| Brian and the Santanoni Range. |
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| Unique view of the central High Peaks. |
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| Dynamic Duo. |
One icy bulge got the best of me. In a flash I went from a seated position to a heap of tangled limbs and poles. My glasses lay in the snow a few feet away and I felt like someone had punched me in the nose. It took me a moment or two to understand that one of my hiking poles had struck me across the bridge of my nose. Brian asked if I was OK and I replied "Yeah, just stunned." After the pain finished radiating from my nose to my ears, I felt fine. My nose was swollen and tender but not broken.
Descending the slide was the best part of the hike. I chose to glissade through the deep, unbroken snow. Brian opted to butt-slide the compacted chute and I'll let the photos describe the fun he had. The fallen trees seemed easier to tackle on the descent using a "crab-walking" approach.
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| Allen's slide put to the test. |
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| Prime butt-sliding territory. |
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| Re-crossing the Opalescent. |
Photos
See all photos.Saturday, February 16, 2013
Allen 2013-02-16
On Saturday, I visited Allen for my fortieth winter High Peak. The weather and snow conditions were near perfect and, along with great hiking partners and the many forum members I met along the way, made for a memorable day.
Our group of six consisted of Mike (TelemarkMike), Bill (BillB), Sam, Bill H., Pete, and last to leave the trailhead, l'il ol' me. By 7:20 AM we were all safely across the Hudson, warm and bone dry.
With the exception of Sam, who used NEOS overshoes, we employed some form of makeshift waders to ford the foot-deep waters of the Hudson. Not knowing what to expect, I had fashioned a pair of chaps out of contractor-grade garbage bags. They were tied to my waist belt and could've allowed me to wade through thigh-deep water. Fortunately for all, the conditions were not so demanding.
Mike and Bill were in the lead followed by Bill H. and Pete on skis, Sam, and then me in the caboose. The trail appeared to have been broken the day before, or earlier, and was freshly flattened by the passage of two groups that left before us.
Mike followed tracks that led upstream of the marked, but untracked, Opalescent crossing. The tracked crossing led over a broken set of ice floes in a narrower section of the river. We crossed in snowshoes without incident. Upon our return later in the day, I noticed a large section of the crossing, outlined by fractures, had settled; the ice bridge was passable but was collapsing.
Beyond the crossing we met a group of forum members (Bushman Brian) and lurkers. We would cross paths with them at least twice more. We stopped for a break and to stash some gear such as Bill and Pete's skis and my over-engineered "wading chaps". Mike and Bill forged ahead while Sam and I waited for Pete and Bill H. to switch into their snowshoes. The group eventually split into two where four of us were in the lead and two were in caboose position.
About a mile past the trail junction we met the first group of the day, John Davis and Eesti. We would meet them at least three more times during the day.
Having met at least a dozen hikers on the trail, I noted the wide differences in metabolic rates. Many of the people we met were bundled up, some with balaclavas drawn over their faces. In contrast, Bill had stripped down to a baselayer shirt, I wore no hat or mitts, and Bill H. commented he might have to ascend Allen in his underwear!
We paused at the location of a "thunder box" (field toilet) located a mere fifteen feet from the herd path! Someone had a strange sense of humor when this "privy without privacy" was installed in full view of the trail.
The appearance of Skylight Brook signaled the end of the long approach trek and the beginning of the ascent. The brook was easily crossed and the section to Allen Brook was uneventful and a good warm-up for what lie in wait.
Allen Brook was snowed over and its infamously slippery slime was nowhere in sight. We encountered several fallen trees that required crawling under or over but that's par for the course. Overall, the route was less treacherous than in summer when the mud, slime, and running water seek to pull the rug out from under you.
Allen's slide was spectacular. Blanketed in fluffy snow, footing was very good and only a few icy spots required aggressively setting one's snowshoe crampons for traction. The deep powder snow promised an effortless descent. We hugged the (climber's) left side of the slide and didn't pause except to admire the superb views of the Santanonis and Sewards. We didn't know it at the time but most of the central and eastern High Peaks were engulfed in snow clouds whereas the southern and western peaks were bathed in sunshine.
We topped out on Allen at 12:30 PM in sunshine, blue skies, and cottonwool clouds. Winter peak number forty felt good! After a round of summit photos, we all donned warm clothing and tore into lunch. I wandered through unbroken snow to the northern lookout and was surprised by my discovery. Dark snow clouds hung over the peaks from Colden to Dix! In contrast, Redfield and all peaks south were cloud-free. What luck to have chosen Allen today!
We spent forty minutes on the summit. By the time we began our descent at 1:10 PM, Bill H. and Pete had arrived as well as John and Eesti. I was looking forward to descending the slide. We were fortunate to have ideal conditions for winter hiking's best feature, namely a rapid and exciting descent. The slide did not disappoint!
We met Bushman Brian and company at a ledge and stopped to chat and let them pass. Once the trail was clear again, Mike led the charge to the slide. At the slide I stepped out of the path and glissaded through the unbroken powder. If only the ascent was as effortless as the descent! After clearing the slide, I forged ahead and reached the base of Allen Brook at 1:45 PM. I wrote the time in the snow, indicating to the others that I was safe and moving ahead.
Shortly before reaching Skylight Brook at 2:00 PM, I met a young couple, sporting dreadlocks, ascending to Allen. It seemed late in the day and an exit by headlamp was a certainty. I paused at the brook crossing to allow the others to catch up. Fifteen minutes later, Sam emerged. At 2:30 PM, John and Eesti arrived. They indicated Mike was waiting for the others to finish the descent.
Whereas four members of our group had car-pooled, Sam and I had our own vehicles. The foursome needed to stick together since they all had to exit with the driver. Skylight Brook is a pretty, quiet spot but the half-hour intermission was rapidly cooling my sweaty clothes. Sam and I decided it was time to get out of Dodge. The trailhead was a long ways off and it'd be nice to see it before sunset.
I left a trail of breadcrumbs in the form of time-stamps drawn in the snow. The rest of the team, a party of four, would know that we, a party of two, were making safe progress.
At the trail junction we met a lone backpacker heading for state land to camp for the night. I indicated Skylight Brook was a long walk away but there was spot a mile up the trail to Flowed Lands. He thanked us and proceeded to break trail towards Flowed Lands. Sam and I marvelled at the size of his streamlined backpack. He certainly looked like he lacked nothing to make his evening comfortable.
About a mile before reaching the Opalescent, we met a couple hauling pulks with three friendly Border Collies. The dogs greeted us like we had steaks hidden in our pockets. How they forded the Hudson, with pulks and dogs, and negotiated the many fallen trees across the trail are feats I would like to have witnessed. Shortly before the crossing, I retrieved my water-chaps stowed in a thicket of spruce trees.
We reached the Opalescent crossing around 4:00 PM. The herd of hikers, pulks, and dogs had taken its toll and the ice bridge had fractured and settled. It remained easy to cross but its appearance inspired less confidence than when we saw it earlier in the day.
The balance of the hike was lit by the fading rays of the late afternoon sun. We maintained a brisk pace in order to ford the Hudson before sunset, just ninety minutes away. Our water ran out about a mile before the Mt. Adams trail junction. It was also at that point that my legs began to complain and seemed to say "Are we there yet?"
Crossing Lake Jimmy signaled the trailhead was near. Some of the snowshoes tracks on its surface had become sodden during the day and were now grey patches of frozen slush. Again, not as encouraging as when we crossed it in the morning.
Upon reaching the Hudson, we quickly put on our waterproofs and forded the river. By 5:30 PM, we were back where we started but with a great feeling of accomplishment. We shook hands, yet another great hike together, and Sam drove away.
I spent the next half-hour cleaning up and organizing my gear. By 6:00 PM, seeing that the balance of the team was still en route, I left a thank-you note on their van's door and drove away under a moonlit sky. Thanks Mike, Bill, Bill H., and Pete for a great day!
Our group of six consisted of Mike (TelemarkMike), Bill (BillB), Sam, Bill H., Pete, and last to leave the trailhead, l'il ol' me. By 7:20 AM we were all safely across the Hudson, warm and bone dry.
With the exception of Sam, who used NEOS overshoes, we employed some form of makeshift waders to ford the foot-deep waters of the Hudson. Not knowing what to expect, I had fashioned a pair of chaps out of contractor-grade garbage bags. They were tied to my waist belt and could've allowed me to wade through thigh-deep water. Fortunately for all, the conditions were not so demanding.
Mike and Bill were in the lead followed by Bill H. and Pete on skis, Sam, and then me in the caboose. The trail appeared to have been broken the day before, or earlier, and was freshly flattened by the passage of two groups that left before us.
Mike followed tracks that led upstream of the marked, but untracked, Opalescent crossing. The tracked crossing led over a broken set of ice floes in a narrower section of the river. We crossed in snowshoes without incident. Upon our return later in the day, I noticed a large section of the crossing, outlined by fractures, had settled; the ice bridge was passable but was collapsing.
Beyond the crossing we met a group of forum members (Bushman Brian) and lurkers. We would cross paths with them at least twice more. We stopped for a break and to stash some gear such as Bill and Pete's skis and my over-engineered "wading chaps". Mike and Bill forged ahead while Sam and I waited for Pete and Bill H. to switch into their snowshoes. The group eventually split into two where four of us were in the lead and two were in caboose position.
About a mile past the trail junction we met the first group of the day, John Davis and Eesti. We would meet them at least three more times during the day.
Having met at least a dozen hikers on the trail, I noted the wide differences in metabolic rates. Many of the people we met were bundled up, some with balaclavas drawn over their faces. In contrast, Bill had stripped down to a baselayer shirt, I wore no hat or mitts, and Bill H. commented he might have to ascend Allen in his underwear!
We paused at the location of a "thunder box" (field toilet) located a mere fifteen feet from the herd path! Someone had a strange sense of humor when this "privy without privacy" was installed in full view of the trail.
The appearance of Skylight Brook signaled the end of the long approach trek and the beginning of the ascent. The brook was easily crossed and the section to Allen Brook was uneventful and a good warm-up for what lie in wait.
Allen Brook was snowed over and its infamously slippery slime was nowhere in sight. We encountered several fallen trees that required crawling under or over but that's par for the course. Overall, the route was less treacherous than in summer when the mud, slime, and running water seek to pull the rug out from under you.
Allen's slide was spectacular. Blanketed in fluffy snow, footing was very good and only a few icy spots required aggressively setting one's snowshoe crampons for traction. The deep powder snow promised an effortless descent. We hugged the (climber's) left side of the slide and didn't pause except to admire the superb views of the Santanonis and Sewards. We didn't know it at the time but most of the central and eastern High Peaks were engulfed in snow clouds whereas the southern and western peaks were bathed in sunshine.
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| Mike ascending upper Allen slide. |
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| Sam ascending Allen slide. |
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| Allen becomes my 40th winter peak. |
 |
| High Peaks are engulfed in snow clouds. |
We met Bushman Brian and company at a ledge and stopped to chat and let them pass. Once the trail was clear again, Mike led the charge to the slide. At the slide I stepped out of the path and glissaded through the unbroken powder. If only the ascent was as effortless as the descent! After clearing the slide, I forged ahead and reached the base of Allen Brook at 1:45 PM. I wrote the time in the snow, indicating to the others that I was safe and moving ahead.
 |
| Looking west to the Santanoni Range. |
Whereas four members of our group had car-pooled, Sam and I had our own vehicles. The foursome needed to stick together since they all had to exit with the driver. Skylight Brook is a pretty, quiet spot but the half-hour intermission was rapidly cooling my sweaty clothes. Sam and I decided it was time to get out of Dodge. The trailhead was a long ways off and it'd be nice to see it before sunset.
I left a trail of breadcrumbs in the form of time-stamps drawn in the snow. The rest of the team, a party of four, would know that we, a party of two, were making safe progress.
At the trail junction we met a lone backpacker heading for state land to camp for the night. I indicated Skylight Brook was a long walk away but there was spot a mile up the trail to Flowed Lands. He thanked us and proceeded to break trail towards Flowed Lands. Sam and I marvelled at the size of his streamlined backpack. He certainly looked like he lacked nothing to make his evening comfortable.
 |
| The "sand pit". |
We reached the Opalescent crossing around 4:00 PM. The herd of hikers, pulks, and dogs had taken its toll and the ice bridge had fractured and settled. It remained easy to cross but its appearance inspired less confidence than when we saw it earlier in the day.
 |
| Opalescent's ice-bridge is collapsing. |
 |
| Long shadows at sunset. |
 |
| Sam crossing Lake Jimmy. |
I spent the next half-hour cleaning up and organizing my gear. By 6:00 PM, seeing that the balance of the team was still en route, I left a thank-you note on their van's door and drove away under a moonlit sky. Thanks Mike, Bill, Bill H., and Pete for a great day!
Photos
See all photos.Monday, June 27, 2011
Allen 2011-06-27
My alarm sounded at 2:15 AM and ended a few hours of fitful sleep; I rarely sleep soundly when I know I'll be waking before the birds. I was out the door at 2:45 AM. Less than an hour later I was at the border behind one car. The driver appeared to have had insufficient identification and was directed back to Canada. Talk about a bad start to your day!
South of Lewis, interstate 87 was shrouded in fog. As I came out of a patch of mist, I saw something I dread during pre-dawn drives, a deer standing by the road. Too late to brake but fortunately it didn't bolt and we passed one another without incident. En route to Upper Works, a squirrel was less fortunate and met its end under the wheels of my car. All I had time to do was flinch.
I rolled into Upper Works at 5:30 AM where DelawareMike, Iluvsnow55, and Ellie (a 7 year old Labrador), were already in the parking lot. By 6:00 AM, we were joined by BradleyC1316 and FootTraffic. DelawareMike registered the group and we departed at approximately 6:15 AM.
The first order of the day was the selection of a safe place to ford the Hudson River. The recent rains dashed any notion of an easy, 'knee-deep' crossing. After much scouting and deliberation we agreed upon a location approximately 50 yards down-river of the collapsed bridge. It offered mid-thigh to crotch-deep water with a fairly smooth bed. The speed of the current was a concern because, from observing surface debris, it seemed to flow at about two feet per second. There seemed to be no danger of being swept away; taking a dunking and ruining a camera seemed like the worse-case scenario. We donned our sandals, a few of us gents stripped down to our skivvies, and we all crossed without incident. In fact, the water was refreshing and a portent of the trail to come: wet.
We donned our boots, covered our soggy underwear with dry pants, and continued on to Lake Jimmy. Except for one section that is slightly submerged, the floating bridge is in fine shape. Beyond the bridge, we encountered the day's trail conditions, namely wet and muddy. The trees and vegetation were soaking wet and rained down on us all the way to Allen's summit. Wet pants and feet were the order of the day but the sun was shining so it all balanced out.
We didn't encounter the belligerent grouse at the observer's cabin. Ellie's enthusiastic barking probably had something to do with that. She had several members of our group well-trained and they dutifully played 'pitch the stick' at every rest stop. Failure to pitch the stick resulted in corrective barking. However, by mile sixteen, Ellie's interest in the game had waned.
Fording the Opalescent river was a simple affair involving knee-deep water. Everyone agreed the Opalescent was significantly colder than the Hudson. We stashed our sandals in the trees, changed socks, and continued on to the next milestone, namely the 'Allen' highway sign. This section of trail is overgrown with tall grasses, raspberry bushes, and other brambly vegetation that efficiently soaked footwear and clothing. However, it had a wonderful cooling effect that was noticeably absent upon our return in the mid-afternoon heat.
Past the highway sign, the herd path was wet, muddy, and easy to follow. Nevertheless, we lost it about a hundred yards west of Skylight brook (easily found on the return trip) due to some blowdown. It didn't matter because we could hear it and simply headed towards the rushing sound. Skylight brook was running high but was easily crossed via a fallen tree. The opposite bank has an illegal campsite that, after the rains, was a muddy mess.
We arrived at Allen brook only to find its attractive waterfall was obscured by fallen trees. It will probably take torrential rains, or another spring-melt, to dislodge the trees. We stopped to replenish our water bottles and prepared ourselves for the imminent ascent. The herd path weaves its way in and out of the brook. Allen's infamously slippery 'red slime' was present and caused a few 'slip and falls'. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured and everyone developed a healthy respect for 'red slime'.
Upon reaching the slide, the herd path follows along the righthand side. Several yards higher, there is a comfortable place to traverse the slide and follow along the left. However, the herd path also continues along the right. Some members forged ahead, along the right, whereas FootTraffic and I traversed to the left. Eventually, the righthand team dead-ended and had to bushwhack through dense woods to join the lefthand team.
We reached Allen's northern summit at 1:30 PM and stopped for lunch, photos, and to swap good stories. FootTraffic brought out his Spot transmitter and signalled his family "I'm OK!". He also showed us his summit talisman, a 'Hula Pig'!
The descent of Allen brook seemed longer than its ascent owing to the care needed to avoid a nasty spill. By the time we reached the 'Allen' highway sign, the sun was beating down and the morning's cool, wet foliage was sorely missed. We all looked forward to fording the Opalescent. I could imagine steam rising from its surface after five pairs of overheated feet plunged into its cool waters. Upon reaching it, it did not disappoint us and we took our time crossing it.
When we reached the Hudson, many of us chose to wade in fully clothed and with our boots. On the opposite bank, several of us dropped our packs, stripped down, and re-entered the river to wash away a day's worth of mud, sweat, and insect repellent. For anyone drawing water downstream, it would've been advisable to use a filter!
VIDEO: Return from Allen
At the parking lot, we took a few minutes to freshen up and then FootTraffic unfolded a few camp chairs and DelawareMike brought out ice-cold bottles of beers. Ellie wolfed down her dog-chow and then flopped onto her side, dog-tired. We reflected on the current day's hike, past hikes, and hikes to come. An hour later, we bid one another goodbye and drove off in five different directions. I had a great time and I hope our paths cross again soon.
South of Lewis, interstate 87 was shrouded in fog. As I came out of a patch of mist, I saw something I dread during pre-dawn drives, a deer standing by the road. Too late to brake but fortunately it didn't bolt and we passed one another without incident. En route to Upper Works, a squirrel was less fortunate and met its end under the wheels of my car. All I had time to do was flinch.
I rolled into Upper Works at 5:30 AM where DelawareMike, Iluvsnow55, and Ellie (a 7 year old Labrador), were already in the parking lot. By 6:00 AM, we were joined by BradleyC1316 and FootTraffic. DelawareMike registered the group and we departed at approximately 6:15 AM.
The first order of the day was the selection of a safe place to ford the Hudson River. The recent rains dashed any notion of an easy, 'knee-deep' crossing. After much scouting and deliberation we agreed upon a location approximately 50 yards down-river of the collapsed bridge. It offered mid-thigh to crotch-deep water with a fairly smooth bed. The speed of the current was a concern because, from observing surface debris, it seemed to flow at about two feet per second. There seemed to be no danger of being swept away; taking a dunking and ruining a camera seemed like the worse-case scenario. We donned our sandals, a few of us gents stripped down to our skivvies, and we all crossed without incident. In fact, the water was refreshing and a portent of the trail to come: wet.
We donned our boots, covered our soggy underwear with dry pants, and continued on to Lake Jimmy. Except for one section that is slightly submerged, the floating bridge is in fine shape. Beyond the bridge, we encountered the day's trail conditions, namely wet and muddy. The trees and vegetation were soaking wet and rained down on us all the way to Allen's summit. Wet pants and feet were the order of the day but the sun was shining so it all balanced out.
 |
| Foggy morning at Lake Jimmy. |
Fording the Opalescent river was a simple affair involving knee-deep water. Everyone agreed the Opalescent was significantly colder than the Hudson. We stashed our sandals in the trees, changed socks, and continued on to the next milestone, namely the 'Allen' highway sign. This section of trail is overgrown with tall grasses, raspberry bushes, and other brambly vegetation that efficiently soaked footwear and clothing. However, it had a wonderful cooling effect that was noticeably absent upon our return in the mid-afternoon heat.
 |
| Opalescent River. |
We arrived at Allen brook only to find its attractive waterfall was obscured by fallen trees. It will probably take torrential rains, or another spring-melt, to dislodge the trees. We stopped to replenish our water bottles and prepared ourselves for the imminent ascent. The herd path weaves its way in and out of the brook. Allen's infamously slippery 'red slime' was present and caused a few 'slip and falls'. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured and everyone developed a healthy respect for 'red slime'.
Upon reaching the slide, the herd path follows along the righthand side. Several yards higher, there is a comfortable place to traverse the slide and follow along the left. However, the herd path also continues along the right. Some members forged ahead, along the right, whereas FootTraffic and I traversed to the left. Eventually, the righthand team dead-ended and had to bushwhack through dense woods to join the lefthand team.
We reached Allen's northern summit at 1:30 PM and stopped for lunch, photos, and to swap good stories. FootTraffic brought out his Spot transmitter and signalled his family "I'm OK!". He also showed us his summit talisman, a 'Hula Pig'!
The descent of Allen brook seemed longer than its ascent owing to the care needed to avoid a nasty spill. By the time we reached the 'Allen' highway sign, the sun was beating down and the morning's cool, wet foliage was sorely missed. We all looked forward to fording the Opalescent. I could imagine steam rising from its surface after five pairs of overheated feet plunged into its cool waters. Upon reaching it, it did not disappoint us and we took our time crossing it.
 |
| Butterflies puddling. |
VIDEO: Return from Allen
At the parking lot, we took a few minutes to freshen up and then FootTraffic unfolded a few camp chairs and DelawareMike brought out ice-cold bottles of beers. Ellie wolfed down her dog-chow and then flopped onto her side, dog-tired. We reflected on the current day's hike, past hikes, and hikes to come. An hour later, we bid one another goodbye and drove off in five different directions. I had a great time and I hope our paths cross again soon.
Photos
See all photos.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Allen
Allen
2010-08-29
Summary
My 46th High Peak.
9.75 hour trip. Approximately 8.3 hours of hiking.
"Red slime" is like cooking oil.
Weather
Very warm. Slightly humid.
Visibility
Good but hazy.
Details
Friday, August 27th was not a good day. I attended my uncle's funeral who had passed away a few days earlier at the age of 86. There have been three deaths in my family this year so 2010 has been emotionally difficult. On a more mundane note, I awoke to a scratchy throat and muscle pain. Fate conspired to cancel Saturday's hike.
Saturday was a day of convalescence and introspection. By evening, I felt better and decided that Sunday would be the day I'd hike Allen, my 46th peak. Life's short so do the things that you love, now.
My wife and I left Montreal at 4:00 AM. She would not be accompanying me to Allen but would spend the day relaxing on the public beach in Newcomb. If you saw a woman practicing tai-chi on the beach, that was her. She had never been to Tahawus so she paid close attention to the route to Allen's trailhead. She would return at 6:00 PM to share in my celebration of hiking my 46th High Peak.
We arrived at the trailhead shortly before 7:00 AM. Armed with her words of encouragement and love, I set off at 7:10 AM with a spring in my step. I had hiked a section of the trail the previous weekend so it was largely familiar to me. The trail to the Opalescent river crossing is fairly level and a significant portion follows a road. I crossed the Opalescent at 8:15 AM. A pair of running shoes, and a T-shirt, still hang from a limb on the west side of the river. Are they forgotten or placed there for the convenience of others wishing to ford the river?
The next section crosses an open area with views of Adams, Calamity, and Allen in the distance. After pushing through brambles heavily laden with dew, and getting thoroughly wet, I reached the Allen trail junction at 8:45 AM. The sign for Allen is a four foot, split log, pointed at one end, and carved with the word "Allen"; it's hard to miss.
The path from the Allen junction to Skylight brook is wooded and has its fair share of muddy sections. It is not difficult but it felt longer than I had anticipated. I was raring to see Skylight Brook and I reached it at 9:50 AM. I stopped to change socks, patch a few hotspots, and have a snack. Within a few minutes I was joined by two hikers, also from Montreal, who left the trailhead shortly after I did. After we'd chatted about Allen they moved on to the summit. We'd meet again during the ascent, on the summit, and finally at the trailhead.
After a ten minute break at Skylight brook, I continued on to the junction with Allen brook. This part of the trail winds through conifers and is in good shape with little erosion or mud. I reached Allen brook at 10:25 AM. Up until this point of the hike, I had passed through terrain that was varied but generally typical of what you'd find throughout the High Peaks. The next section would introduce me to Allen's uniqueness.
If a herd path follows a brook, and the water levels are low, you're liable to hike in the brook to take advantage of exposed slabs and rocks. For example, a section of the trail to Redfield follows a brook and, the previous weekend, I hiked in the brook and found it very enjoyable. The herd path up Allen brook is an exception. The exposed rock is coated in a slick substance, widely referred to as "red slime", that provides all the traction of cooking oil. After a few experiments to gauge the limits of my ability to stay upright, I chose to avoid the slabs and use the muddy trails whenever possible.
I like a mountain trail that does not waste your time with switchbacks, ups, downs, flanking, or other nonsense; Allen's trail simply goes straight up the slippery brook. About three-quarters of the way up you come to an open slide with a good view of Redfield. Due to the red slime, the best route is to stick to the steep, mucky trail along the slide's left side. After the slide, the trail enters the woods and continues on solid ground to the summit.
I arrived at the summit sign at 11:40 AM and took a self-portrait. My big grin was genuine. When I stopped persuing 46er status in 1982, at the tender age of 23, I had completed 37 peaks in four years through many multi-day trips. I had always considered Allen, owing to its distance, to be a two-day venture. Yet, almost thirty years later, I was standing on its summit in less than four and a half hours. Was I feeling 'on top of the world'? You bet I was!
I walked over to the lookout at Allen's north end. It provides unique views of Skylight, Marcy, Panther gorge, Haystack, Gothics, and many peaks to the east including Giant and Dix. The two Montrealers were there and they proceeded to congratulate me. We all had lunch and quietly gazed at the marvelous views. Each peak brought back memories of the people, weather, views, and events that gave life to each hiking trip. It was a trip down memory lane because many of those hikes were over a quarter-century old.
I decided to celebrate my 46th summit by raising a glass of scotch to my departed relatives. I packed a proper whisky glass and two fingers of Lagavulin 16-year old single malt for the occasion. Sipping the scotch and viewing the High Peaks from atop Allen was a poignant moment.
I left the summit at 12:30 PM. After descending for about a half hour, I met a young couple ascending the trail. The boy was clutching an ADK trail guide and the girl was wearing a knee brace. Other than that, I don't recall seeing any packs or trail gear. They asked "how far to the summit" and I replied I had been descending for a half hour. I cautioned them about the "red slime" and the girl acknowledged its slickness. She expressed concern about the descent. I was surprised by their lack of equipment. During my trip to Redfield, I had also noticed hikers who seemed to travel beyond 'ultra-light' and more in the realm of 'unprepared'. When I signed out at the trail register, later that afternoon, I saw only my name and the two Montrealers but no record of the couple. They either started from elsewhere or enjoyed throwing caution to the wind.
I carefully made my way down the slick rocks and experienced only one unexpected slip. It was was short, fast and, fortunately, I had hiking poles and a tree branch to keep me upright. One nasty fall can ruin your hike and I wasn't about to carried out on this one. Once again, my hiking poles proved their worth and let me descend safely and quickly. By 1:30 PM I was back at the falls on Allen brook. I stood next to the falls and filled my water bag directly from the rushing water. I surmised Allen brook's water to be relatively safe and didn't bother to drop in an Aquatab. The water was cool and delicious. I guess I'll know the results of my gamble in about two weeks.
I passed Skylight brook at 1:50 PM and arrived at the East River/Allen junction at 2:50 PM. The Allen junction is in a clearing and the sun was baking everything in sight. I sat on a log and stripped off my wet socks and let my pruney-white feet dry out in the heat. After a snack, foot maintenance, and fresh socks, I pushed on to the Opalescent river. The overhanging bushes were now dry and made passage through them a less soggy affair than in the morning.
I arrived at the Opalescent at 3:40 PM and spent a few minutes enjoying the scenery. The low water level has exposed the river's rocky bed and large shoals of smooth round stones. At other times of the year, I imagine that crossing this bridgeless river can be a formidable challenge if not outright impossible. Fortunately, its current condition allowed me to rock-hop across it. If it wasn't on private land, it'd make a picturesque spot for camping.
The hike back to the trailhead was uneventful except for a brief glimpse of a white-tailed deer. It jumped out of the bushes, crossed the road, and darted off into the woods. It all happened within a few feet of me and in a blink of an eye. The remaining miles slipped by and I arrived at the trailhead at 4:55 PM. With only five hikers on the trail, on a warm summer's day, it seemed like I had the privilege to experience Allen in relative privacy.
I arrived one hour prior to the appointed rendezvous time so I headed back to the Hudson River and sat on its bank cooling my feet. About fifteen minutes later, the two Montrealers crossed the suspension bridge. At 5:30 PM I was milling around the empty parking lot watching cars head to and from Upper Works. My wife was unfamiliar with the area; she had seen the East River parking area for the first time this morning. By 6:00 PM I was concerned that something had gone wrong. My wallet and passport were with her so it'd be tricky to fend for myself.
By 6:10 PM I grew worried about my wife's safety. A moment later, I spotted our car, headlights flashing, and horn blaring. She had followed the road towards Upper Works but, at around 5:45 PM, turned back just short of the parking lot. She felt she had travelled too far, and missed the lot, so she doubled back. She stopped passing cars for directions, some had no idea about the 'parking lot for Allen', one indicated it was only 'four minutes up the road' (it was much more), and finally someone confirmed that he had seen a 'lone hiker in a red T-shirt'. Our reunion was joyous; we were both safe and sound. The trip couldn't have ended on a better note.
Photos
For best results, select Slide Show.
A toast to everyone who helped make this possible.
2010-08-29
Summary
My 46th High Peak.
9.75 hour trip. Approximately 8.3 hours of hiking.
"Red slime" is like cooking oil.
Weather
Very warm. Slightly humid.
Visibility
Good but hazy.
Details
Friday, August 27th was not a good day. I attended my uncle's funeral who had passed away a few days earlier at the age of 86. There have been three deaths in my family this year so 2010 has been emotionally difficult. On a more mundane note, I awoke to a scratchy throat and muscle pain. Fate conspired to cancel Saturday's hike.
Saturday was a day of convalescence and introspection. By evening, I felt better and decided that Sunday would be the day I'd hike Allen, my 46th peak. Life's short so do the things that you love, now.
My wife and I left Montreal at 4:00 AM. She would not be accompanying me to Allen but would spend the day relaxing on the public beach in Newcomb. If you saw a woman practicing tai-chi on the beach, that was her. She had never been to Tahawus so she paid close attention to the route to Allen's trailhead. She would return at 6:00 PM to share in my celebration of hiking my 46th High Peak.
We arrived at the trailhead shortly before 7:00 AM. Armed with her words of encouragement and love, I set off at 7:10 AM with a spring in my step. I had hiked a section of the trail the previous weekend so it was largely familiar to me. The trail to the Opalescent river crossing is fairly level and a significant portion follows a road. I crossed the Opalescent at 8:15 AM. A pair of running shoes, and a T-shirt, still hang from a limb on the west side of the river. Are they forgotten or placed there for the convenience of others wishing to ford the river?
The next section crosses an open area with views of Adams, Calamity, and Allen in the distance. After pushing through brambles heavily laden with dew, and getting thoroughly wet, I reached the Allen trail junction at 8:45 AM. The sign for Allen is a four foot, split log, pointed at one end, and carved with the word "Allen"; it's hard to miss.
The path from the Allen junction to Skylight brook is wooded and has its fair share of muddy sections. It is not difficult but it felt longer than I had anticipated. I was raring to see Skylight Brook and I reached it at 9:50 AM. I stopped to change socks, patch a few hotspots, and have a snack. Within a few minutes I was joined by two hikers, also from Montreal, who left the trailhead shortly after I did. After we'd chatted about Allen they moved on to the summit. We'd meet again during the ascent, on the summit, and finally at the trailhead.
After a ten minute break at Skylight brook, I continued on to the junction with Allen brook. This part of the trail winds through conifers and is in good shape with little erosion or mud. I reached Allen brook at 10:25 AM. Up until this point of the hike, I had passed through terrain that was varied but generally typical of what you'd find throughout the High Peaks. The next section would introduce me to Allen's uniqueness.
If a herd path follows a brook, and the water levels are low, you're liable to hike in the brook to take advantage of exposed slabs and rocks. For example, a section of the trail to Redfield follows a brook and, the previous weekend, I hiked in the brook and found it very enjoyable. The herd path up Allen brook is an exception. The exposed rock is coated in a slick substance, widely referred to as "red slime", that provides all the traction of cooking oil. After a few experiments to gauge the limits of my ability to stay upright, I chose to avoid the slabs and use the muddy trails whenever possible.
I like a mountain trail that does not waste your time with switchbacks, ups, downs, flanking, or other nonsense; Allen's trail simply goes straight up the slippery brook. About three-quarters of the way up you come to an open slide with a good view of Redfield. Due to the red slime, the best route is to stick to the steep, mucky trail along the slide's left side. After the slide, the trail enters the woods and continues on solid ground to the summit.
I arrived at the summit sign at 11:40 AM and took a self-portrait. My big grin was genuine. When I stopped persuing 46er status in 1982, at the tender age of 23, I had completed 37 peaks in four years through many multi-day trips. I had always considered Allen, owing to its distance, to be a two-day venture. Yet, almost thirty years later, I was standing on its summit in less than four and a half hours. Was I feeling 'on top of the world'? You bet I was!
I walked over to the lookout at Allen's north end. It provides unique views of Skylight, Marcy, Panther gorge, Haystack, Gothics, and many peaks to the east including Giant and Dix. The two Montrealers were there and they proceeded to congratulate me. We all had lunch and quietly gazed at the marvelous views. Each peak brought back memories of the people, weather, views, and events that gave life to each hiking trip. It was a trip down memory lane because many of those hikes were over a quarter-century old.
I decided to celebrate my 46th summit by raising a glass of scotch to my departed relatives. I packed a proper whisky glass and two fingers of Lagavulin 16-year old single malt for the occasion. Sipping the scotch and viewing the High Peaks from atop Allen was a poignant moment.
I left the summit at 12:30 PM. After descending for about a half hour, I met a young couple ascending the trail. The boy was clutching an ADK trail guide and the girl was wearing a knee brace. Other than that, I don't recall seeing any packs or trail gear. They asked "how far to the summit" and I replied I had been descending for a half hour. I cautioned them about the "red slime" and the girl acknowledged its slickness. She expressed concern about the descent. I was surprised by their lack of equipment. During my trip to Redfield, I had also noticed hikers who seemed to travel beyond 'ultra-light' and more in the realm of 'unprepared'. When I signed out at the trail register, later that afternoon, I saw only my name and the two Montrealers but no record of the couple. They either started from elsewhere or enjoyed throwing caution to the wind.
I carefully made my way down the slick rocks and experienced only one unexpected slip. It was was short, fast and, fortunately, I had hiking poles and a tree branch to keep me upright. One nasty fall can ruin your hike and I wasn't about to carried out on this one. Once again, my hiking poles proved their worth and let me descend safely and quickly. By 1:30 PM I was back at the falls on Allen brook. I stood next to the falls and filled my water bag directly from the rushing water. I surmised Allen brook's water to be relatively safe and didn't bother to drop in an Aquatab. The water was cool and delicious. I guess I'll know the results of my gamble in about two weeks.
I passed Skylight brook at 1:50 PM and arrived at the East River/Allen junction at 2:50 PM. The Allen junction is in a clearing and the sun was baking everything in sight. I sat on a log and stripped off my wet socks and let my pruney-white feet dry out in the heat. After a snack, foot maintenance, and fresh socks, I pushed on to the Opalescent river. The overhanging bushes were now dry and made passage through them a less soggy affair than in the morning.
I arrived at the Opalescent at 3:40 PM and spent a few minutes enjoying the scenery. The low water level has exposed the river's rocky bed and large shoals of smooth round stones. At other times of the year, I imagine that crossing this bridgeless river can be a formidable challenge if not outright impossible. Fortunately, its current condition allowed me to rock-hop across it. If it wasn't on private land, it'd make a picturesque spot for camping.
The hike back to the trailhead was uneventful except for a brief glimpse of a white-tailed deer. It jumped out of the bushes, crossed the road, and darted off into the woods. It all happened within a few feet of me and in a blink of an eye. The remaining miles slipped by and I arrived at the trailhead at 4:55 PM. With only five hikers on the trail, on a warm summer's day, it seemed like I had the privilege to experience Allen in relative privacy.
I arrived one hour prior to the appointed rendezvous time so I headed back to the Hudson River and sat on its bank cooling my feet. About fifteen minutes later, the two Montrealers crossed the suspension bridge. At 5:30 PM I was milling around the empty parking lot watching cars head to and from Upper Works. My wife was unfamiliar with the area; she had seen the East River parking area for the first time this morning. By 6:00 PM I was concerned that something had gone wrong. My wallet and passport were with her so it'd be tricky to fend for myself.
By 6:10 PM I grew worried about my wife's safety. A moment later, I spotted our car, headlights flashing, and horn blaring. She had followed the road towards Upper Works but, at around 5:45 PM, turned back just short of the parking lot. She felt she had travelled too far, and missed the lot, so she doubled back. She stopped passing cars for directions, some had no idea about the 'parking lot for Allen', one indicated it was only 'four minutes up the road' (it was much more), and finally someone confirmed that he had seen a 'lone hiker in a red T-shirt'. Our reunion was joyous; we were both safe and sound. The trip couldn't have ended on a better note.
Photos
For best results, select Slide Show.
A toast to everyone who helped make this possible.
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